Paris

Paris,
photos- the lovely gardens at Les Halles, entrance to the big courtyrad at th eLouvre- i am trying to give you an idea of the scale of the place.
a little hanbag i saw in a fancy shop

Paris is in many ways similar to India- love in its many forms seems to be the life blood of each.
In India it is not uncommon to hear a man on the street singing the latest love song from the movies, Bollywood is all about love, Taj, Ghandi…..
In Paris turn the heat up a notch[ I think the real reason cafés have firer extinguishers is for those customers who are actually sizzling!] it is amour.
Not only romantically but for all of life’s pleasures- I could smell the tomatoes passing the fruit shop[ in Australia I can bounce them but flavour was left behind]- the vin ordinaire is good, a sense of style is everywhere evident.
Not one moulded plastic chair in sight [ they are breeding across the world this is the only country so far not infected!]

The feminine is acceptable and appreciated in both places- I have followed the feminist line, raised my children alone for 15 years, had a full time and fulfilling job, built a house, made the bread and the meals- really the lot.
It is refreshing not to have to look like a bloke doing so. Both places have the space for a vision of the feminine which is distinct from the masculine and I like that.

Paris like the Indian bazaar is similar in that the same kind of shops seems to proliferate in a similar area.
I mentioned fabric around the foot of the Sacre Coeur,
Handbag and all type of glitzy bits, beads and sparkle adorn